More Time
by TheWhoufflePrincess
Summary: Oneshot. All Clara wanted was a date. She finally lands one with Danny Pink, yet he stood her up. Clara was just about to leave, tired of the apologetic looks from the patrons around her, when a man in a black suit with red lining came, kissing her on the cheek and saving her from any further embarassment. He may not be her date, but it isn't everyday a man comes and saves you.


"I need more time."

"Alright miss," the waitress responded, nodding warily.

The way Clara's voice quivered, or perhaps the way she fiddled with the hem of her shirt was probably why the waitress left her to it and refilled her glass of water for god knows how many times. She could feel the sympathetic looks from the diner patrons, but what could she do? Danny had stood her up, after leading her on and asking her on a date. She didn't even bother with people, not with her schedule, so it was the first time in ages since she went on a date.

And she gets stood up.

She feels like crying, but what would that do for her? She was a strong woman at the age of twenty-nine, building herself up from the ground since the age of sixteen. She excelled at being bossy and being a control freak, but she also had her redeeming qualities of loving children and having a sweetness not many had. She was a mixed bag of pros and cons.

Clara was this close to standing up and leaving when a man who was at least in his fifties came, kissing her on the cheek. She stilled, staring wide eyed at the stranger. He was fine looking, but it wasn't Danny. Who...?

"Hi, love. I'm sorry for being late." His rough Scottish brogue chilled her core, "traffic was absolute horseshit." He leaned in a bit closer, "I'm John. Just roll with it. Whoever stood you up is a bloody cunt." He sat in the booth opposite of her and smiled warmly.

"I thought you stood me up, John." She said warily, looking to him. He was a dashing man for a guy in his fifties, really. Silver curls and a suit, he didn't quite look like he belonged in this crappy diner.

"No need to go about it anymore. People lost interest." He glanced around the room, then focused his eyes to her. "Sorry, I must look like a creep. I saw you all alone and I felt bad, you're a beautiful young woman and I'm probably making you uncomfortable." He scratched the back of his head, smiling shyly.

"No, not at all. I wanted a date and damn it, I'm going to get one."

"Feisty, aren't you? You deserve one, I'd say. English teacher?"

"How'd you know? Are you some sort of stalker?" He chuckled as the waitress came, poured him some water, and handed him a menu.

"You're dressed like one." He pointed out, "You're not wearing anything that seems like a normal woman like yourself would wear on a date. I mean, the pencil skirt is really pushing it."

"I met with some parents before this, so sorry I don't fit the norm." She found herself frustrated, when really, she should be thanking the man.

"No need to be aggressive," he took a sip out of his glass, "We night as well get to know each other. You want a date, right?" She thought it over, then sighed. Might as well. Besides, she was always into the older scene, more or less. Most of her boyfriends had been older than her, since she was apparently more attractive than most of the competition.

"I'm Clara. Clara Oswald." She introduced.

"Clara." The way his voice rolled the 'r' was quite intoxicating. She mentally slapped herself. Good grief, get a grip Oswald! He's a man who just saved you from being stood up. You want to chat, not get into his pants! Besides, it's not like it's ever going to happen...

"That's the one." She grinned. The evening rolled on smoothly and Clara learned more things about John than she ever knew about Danny. John was a surgical doctor, working at the nearby hospital just several blocks from the restaurant. He owned a cat named TARDIS, moved from Glasgow to London on a whim, and played the guitar in his spare time. Sometimes he painted, but that was only on a good day.

"You're a man of many talents, aren't you?" Clara smirked, eating the plate of chips they decided to share. John just shrugged.

"Many, many, talents, Clara." She raised an eyebrow to that, watching him smile. She couldn't tell if he was flirting, or absolutely oblivious of how suggestive his statement was. She concluded it was a bit of both.

Clara shared her fair portion of information, if not more, explaining that she was a teacher, as he suspected, at Coal Hill. She went on the basic drill about how she built herself up and all that sort at the young age. She found herself spilling more than she ever did with anyone else and she was also sober, so that was quite odd. She was in the middle of explaining her proper ventures at seventeen, a year of bad mistakes, when she realized just how much rambling she was doing, not to mention the extravagant hand gestures. She must look like a nutcase. She peered up from the table to find John listening intently.

"Sorry, I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"You look like someone who needed all this off her chest. It's alright. I had to build myself up too. I know the feeling." He crossed his arms, leaning back into the booth.

"Oh?"

"Oh yeah. Ran away from Glasgow several times to escape my life, before I came here properly two years ago. My parents wouldn't let go of their only son and wanted me to join the army men, become one of those..." he made a gesture that Clara could only interpret as disgust, "I only came back to Glasgow for my only friend, Missy. Bit of a prick, if you ask me, but she was my fucking lifesaver." He swipes the last chip from the plate, "I would probably be lost without her, despite her strange ideals and thoughts. I'm guessing you had the same ideas of running."

"I did consider running away a lot." Clara murmured, stirring the straw in her water, "I never really felt any sort of...happiness, proper happiness, since her passing. I've had little victories, but nothing particularly interesting to make me feel a similar happiness." John looked at her with sympathy and took her hands into his, the warmth emanating from his touch.

"If you'd...you'd like, I'd like to try to make you happy." John murmured, then a realization passed through his eyes and he let go of her hands. The cold air enveloped her fingers yet again. "Not that you have to. I'm...I'm just a stranger."

"I told you a good chunk of my life story, John, I don't think you're just a stranger to me anymore." The statement lit him up and she couldn't help but smile too. He was so contagious. Clara glanced at her watch and furrowed her brow. She still had to grade papers and such, so she had to cut this date short. Even if she did admittedly enjoy it. "I have to go home. Work calls."

"I probably should too...how are you going to get home?"

"Ah, I'll be walking. It's not all that far." John shook his head as he pulled out his wallet and paid for their food, even leaving a tip.

"I'll walk you home." John assured.

"That really won't be needed." Clara said. She knew the path to her home just fine.

"Nonsense, it's late." John's words sounded final, so he added on kindly, "I don't want you to get hurt." The softness from his voice was enough for Clara to give a curt nod. He led Clara out the restaurant and pulled her close, cautiously protecting her. The walk to the flat she had was even shorter than she remembered, probably due to the fact that it didn't feel as long with John. They kept talking and talking and before they knew it, they were already outside the flat complex.

"Could I...possibly have another date with you? I'll give you a better one, like the way a real man should." Clara grinned, reaching into her purse and pulling out a pen. She pushed John's sleeve up and wrote down her number. John watched in interest, his heart beating faster than the speed of light. How did he ever...? Once she had finished, they looked at each other with such adoration that Clara thought they would kiss, but it didn't happen. Instead, John brought one of her hands to his thin lips and kissed it ever so gently. "Goodnight, Clara."

"Goodnight, John." She couldn't help but let the blush creep up her cheeks. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, stepping into the apartment complex, but not without looking back at the tall, silver fox walking back in the direction of the diner. She definitely wanted more time with him. She ran up the stairs of her complex, rushing to her flat. She got inside, locking herself in and heading straight to her bed. She plopped right on there, just in time for her phone to buzz. She picked it up and saw Danny's excuses. She rolled her eyes and grinned to herself, hugging her pillow.

Maybe she'd find that happiness again.

* * *

Alright. I admit, I made the Doctor quite...OC, and I'm really sorry. I had intended to make him a bit more brash but I was extremely distracted and I had already rewrote this twice since wattpad decided to mess with me. Sigh. But yeah, I'm not really used to writing Twelve. Sorry. Happy Holidays regardless, though.


End file.
